


20:15 Toronto

by theRadioStarr



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canada, Friendship, Real Life, Relationship(s), Toronto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-04-10 15:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4396850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theRadioStarr/pseuds/theRadioStarr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world of Dragon Age never existed - or if it did, it was drastically different. How could it be the same, when its characters lived their lives in the streets of Toronto?</p>
<p>This story isn't 100% fully fleshed yet - archive warnings could be irrelevant, or could change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rutherford Renovations

Cullen gulped down one last mouthful of water, putting his glass back down on the counter of his bathroom vanity before running a hand through his hair one more time, pushing it back off his forehead. He checked himself over as well as he could in the bathroom mirror: his simple grey v-neck tee was on the right way, it wasn’t tucked into his jeans awkwardly, he didn’t have any toothpaste left in his scruff (he probably should have shaved this morning, but it wasn’t the end of the world – it could wait until tomorrow). He looked down at himself to double check on socks, and when he was satisfied that he was dressed properly for facing the outside world, he grabbed his phone and a hair tie off the counter of the bathroom vanity and opened the door up again.

Joanie was laying right outside, as she always did, looking up at him with wide eyes from where her chin rested on her paws, her tail thumping slowly and loudly in greeting. He squatted to scratch behind her ear, and she lifted her chin off her paws to lick at his face.

“Woah, easy there, girl!” Cullen laughed as he screwed up his face against her assault. He stood up, and she stood up with him, following him through to the living room of their apartment. He patted his pockets own as he went, making sure he had his keys and his wallet before grabbing his coffee mug from the kitchen.

When he emerged again, Joanie had placed one of his safety boots by the couch for him, and was in the process of ferrying the other over from the doorway. Cullen dropped into his seat to start putting them on, stopping when Joanie finally dropped the other boot for him. He reached out and gently grabbed her chin, kissing the top of her snout where a bald burn scar would forever be marked into her skin. “Good girl, thank you.”

Her tail wagged happily again, and she sat patiently as he finished lacing his boots. The last of his effects were on a small table by the front door: apartment keys, car keys, iPod, Bluetooth, and Joanie’s leash, service dog coat, and harness.

Cullen locked the door carefully behind himself, sticking his hands into his pockets to triple-check that everything was where it was supposed to be, and then he made his way down the steps to the back parking of his duplex, his dog at his side.

The downstairs neighbour, Sera, was just starting her car, and she waved to Cullen as he emerged. Cullen smiled and waved back as she slowly rolled past him, pressing the unlock button on his key fob. The lights on his Silverado flashed.

“All right, girl, in you go,” he told Joanie as he opened the passenger side door for her. She bounded up and sat facing forward in the passenger seat, her face split into a wide grin as she panted loudly in excitement. Cullen chuckled to himself as he walked back around to the driver’s side of the cab, reaching up and pressing the little button on the middle of his rearview mirror as he settled into his seat. He ignored the automated message that played and waited for the sound of a real voice.

_“Thank you for calling OnStar! My name is Michelle, how may I assist you today?”_

“Good morning, Michelle, how are you?”

_“I’m great, Mr. Rutherford! How are you?”_

“I’m wonderful,” he answered the woman. “Can you hear me okay? My dog seems to be really excited about the drive today, for some reason.”

_“Loud and clear.”_

“Perfect. I’m looking for 930 Ostagar Circle… I think it’s down near the lake.”

_“I have one, looks like it’s in a small community in… the Beaches?”_

“That’s the one!”

_“Perfect! Anything else I can help with today?”_

“That’ll be all, thanks.” Cullen scratched behind Joanie’s ear for her. She licked the end of her nose and went back to panting.

_“Excellent! I’ve sent your destination to your on-board navigation system. Have a safe drive, and thank you for calling OnStar!”_

‘Have a good day, Michelle. Say bye, Joanie,” Cullen told the dog. She responded with a quiet yip, and they could just catch the advisor’s giddy laughter before the line cut off.

A pop-up jumped onto his GPS, and he tapped the big ‘GO’ button before reaching into his centre console for his auxiliary cable.

“Okay, Joanie,” he started as he dug his iPod from his pocket. Joanie stopped panting to look at him quizzically. “What do you want to listen to today?”

Her tail thumped against the seat.

“Friday morning… do you want some classic rock? Beatles, Zeppelin, Cream… Supertramp?”

Joanie hung her head a little.

“Huh, you always want the old stuff on Fridays. I’d suggest Chopin, but I think it’s a bit early for classical. What about some acoustic? I downloaded that new Ed Sheeran album, or I have some old City and Colour… Indie? Wow, Joanie, you don’t want to drive in _silence_ , do you?”

Joanie just continued to watch him almost guiltily while her tail beat a slow rhythm into the seat.

“Hmmm…” Cullen scrolled through his playlists slowly. “A-ha! I know what you want,” he looked at her from the corner of his eye.

Her head perked up, and her tail started wagging faster.

“You want the Motown playlist,” he commented, hitting shuffle. The first few notes of Sir Duke came through the speakers, and Joanie finally settled into her seat, curling up comfortably and resting her shin on her paws.

“There we go,” Cullen told himself absently, rolling down the windows and turning up the volume before finally pulling out of the driveway. The drive into the Beaches wouldn’t be too bad: once he made it out to Pape, he could follow that straight down to Queen and be there in a matter of minutes. Still, he didn’t want to end up being late. The Amell’s were waiting to hand him their keys and the first part of the payment for the work he’d be doing for them.

It was a big project, actually: he would be building a brand new front porch and back deck for them, along with repainting their entire first floor and restoring their hardwood floors.

Oh, but the Amell’s had money. _Lots_ of it. They were heading up to their multi-million dollar cottage for six weeks and leaving him the run of their home. It was better this way, not having to worry about disrupting their lives with the renos, or having them poking their heads in all the time. He’d take lots of pictures and send them regular emails, but it was a huge relief to not have to worry about getting in each others’ way.

He’d known the Amell’s for a long time – since highschool, anyway. His family had moved to Toronto in time for him to take grades 11 through 13, and he’d been hopelessly in love with their daughter, Solona. She made it clear very early on that she considered him almost like a brother, so he never pressed his case.

She had gone East for school, studying engineering, and had met a biology student named Alistair. Cullen was in Afghanistan when they got married. He had long moved on from her by that point, and was happy to see her happy. They hadn’t spoken since then.

Her parents, however, had adored him, and were constantly sending him emails to see how he was doing. It only made sense that they had asked him to complete the work on their house for them.

Cullen found the suburb entrance with a little sign. _Kinloch Hold._ He hadn’t been here in _years._ Still, it didn’t take him long to find the Amell’s house.

He parked across the street and turned off his iPod, stuffing it into his pocket as he walked around the cab of his truck to let Joanie out.

“Cullen!” Mrs. Amell called out from across the street. “You’re early!”

“He’s always early, dear,” Mr. Amell grumbled at her.

Mrs. Amell rose slowly from her adirondack chair on the porch and waited at the top of the step to give him a hug and a motherly kiss on the cheek. “We were just finishing up breakfast. I’ve a pot of earl grey inside, or I can make you a cup of coffee?”

“Actually, if you’re not planning on finishing the tea, I think I’ll have a cup,” Cullen answered.

“Come on in, then,” Mrs. Amell told him, and he followed her into the house. He looked around at the different rooms while he was in so he could plan his working schedule.

“Milk or sugar, my dear?”

“Just a titch of both, please,” Cullen called back from the den.

She brought it in to him, and he accepted it with a warm “thank you.”

“Now, don’t be afraid to stay here if you need to for whatever reason. And help yourself to anything in the fridge; I’m sure it won’t last until we get back.” She nodded him into the kitchen, and showed him where the tea and little coffee pods were for the single-brew machine. “Just lift this up and pop the little cup in there. And you can take this out like this,” she popped the water reservoir out and pulled the lid off, “to fill it up. Have as much as you want, but we’d appreciate it if you replaced it for when we get home. Same goes for the tea, if you have enough that it starts to run low.”

“Of course,” Cullen agreed immediately with a nod.

Mrs. Amell nodded back and smiled sweetly at him. She turned into the hallway to head back out front, and Cullen followed close behind.

“Here’s the first part,” Mr. Amell told Cullen when they emerged, handing him a sealed envelope. “We’ll send the rest by mail here.”

“The postman knows you’re going to be here, so it shouldn’t get held back,” Mrs. Amell continued. “Send up an email if you need anything, okay?”

“I’ll send you lots of pictures, too,” Cullen promised. “Do you need a hand with your bags? I can bring them down and put them in the car for you.”

“You see, hon’? This is why Solona was an idiot.”

Mrs. Amell just smiled sadly at her husband.

“Speaking of Sol, have you heard from her recently?”

“Her and Alistair are doing well for themselves out East,” Mrs. Amell told him. “I honestly couldn’t tell you what they’re doing, but they’re making money and they’re happy.”

“Alistair’s a nice boy,” Mr. Amell continued for her, “but he’s still learning some of the common courtesy things.”

Cullen nodded. He had heard that Alistair hadn’t had the smoothest upbringing.

They sat together until their tea and coffee was gone, and then Cullen brought all their bags down to their car for them. Before he knew it, they were handing him the keys and waving goodbye as they drove out of sight.

“Let’s go to the back, Joanie,” Cullen murmured as he grabbed his phone and made a few calls. When he was done talking to his waste removal guy and his cement pourer, he scrolled through his contacts for Hissrad Qun.

‘The Iron Bull,’ he called himself – he was a bit of a local celebrity, in his right. His gym downtown was run by an elite group of personal trainers known as the Bull’s Chargers. The membership was stupidly expensive… unless you knew the man behind the imaging, of course.

_“Thanks for calling the Bull Pen – oh, Cullen! What’s goin’ on?”_

“Hey, Bull,” Cullen started.

_“Let me guess – you need some help with heavy lifting? Straight to business, as always.”_

Cullen laughed into his phone. “You know me too well. Demolition’s on Monday. Can you make it?”

 _“I’ve got my usual Monday morning meeting with the boys and girls, but I can come by after lunch,”_ Bull answered.

“Sounds good, thanks.”

_“Don’t mention it. Haven’t seen you around here in a while, Cullen.”_

“Well, I have a very physically taxing job,” Cullen explained. “I don’t need a gym membership, Bull.”

 _“No, what you_ need _is a cardio routine,”_ Bull countered. _“Just because you do lots of hard physical labour doesn’t mean you’re in shape. You need to get your lungs full, get the pipes working. Trust me, start up a cardio routine and in three weeks, you’ll feel even better than you do now.”_

“Let me think about it.”

Bull barked out a loud laugh. _“What’s there to think about? You barely have to pay my people anything when you come in – I’m practically_ giving _it to you. Hell, I’ll get you an appointment with Krem during his floortime. He’ll whip you into shape.”_

“Let me think about it,” Cullen repeated.

 _“Your loss.”_ Cullen could just see the careless way the one-eyed Korean would be shrugging a shoulder at him on the other end of the line. _“Hey, you coming to the Pearl tonight?”_

“When was the last time I missed a Friday night at the Pearl?”

_“Good point. Do you know if Dorian’s coming? I assume he is, but I haven’t talked to him since we went for lunch on Tuesday.”_

“He’s meeting me for lunch today, I’ll ask him.”

_“Sounds good. Can you check in with Branson for me, too?”_

“Do I have to?”

Bull laughed loudly again. _“What are you, twelve?”_

“He’s embarrassing sometimes, that’s all.”

_“You mean he cockblocks you all the time.”_

Cullen snorted in disgust. “More like he has three too many drinks and tries to fuck anything walking upright.”

 _“Alright, alright – between you and me, Krem’s already asked me ten times today if he’s coming out tonight,”_ Bull almost whispered. _“The poor guy… and your brother seems completely oblivious.”_

“Bran’s loss,” Cullen answered. “But he’s got his own issues. It’s better for Krem this way.”

 _“I’ll take your word for it.”_ They both fell silent for a moment. _“Oh, one last thing – can you let Mia know Krem and I will be there for dinner Sunday?”_

“Sure thing. What time are we meeting later?”

_“We’ll meet at Branson’s for 8. The usual.”_

“Okay. Thanks, Bull, I’ll see you later.”

_“See ya.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this should be an adventure!
> 
> First chapter is kind of... abrupt. I don't usually like to start this way, but I wanted to make sure I had everything together enough to start the story. I may come back to this in a couple of days and see how I feel about it - an edit/ending addition is highly possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A date with Dorian.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violent flashbacks and general PTSD musings. Child death is stated without too much detail.

Cullen dropped his pencil on the table and scrubbed at his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. He hoped it would relieve them, but when he looked back down at his blueprints again, the lines and numbers were still blurry and swimming.

He sighed and reached instead for his mug, only to look into the bottom and find that he’d finished his tea without realizing it.

“Time for a break, Joanie?”

He pushed his chair back as Joanie thumped her tail on the floor. He had just started to get up when his phone vibrated.

> [Dorian]: _What’s the house number again?_
> 
> [Cullen]: _930 Ostagar Circle._

Dorian texted him back again almost immediately.

> [Dorian]: _Be there in a minute._

Cullen put his phone down and grabbed his empty mug again, pushing out of his chair to take it to the kitchen. He rinsed it out before placing it on the counter, turning around again at the sound of Joanie’s nails scraping against the hardwood as she raced to the front door.

He chuckled as her tail wagged excitedly; she kept looking at the door, and then over her shoulder at him, her tongue hanging out as she panted.

“Is that Dorian?” he asked her as he grabbed the door handle, and she backed up so he could open it.

“I was starting to wonder if you were going to leave me out there,” Dorian scoffed as he pushed through. He had a tray in one hand with Starbucks.

“Good to see you, too.”

“One venti Americano with non-fat for you.” Dorian held out the hot drink as if it personally offended him.

“What? You’re not the one drinking it.”

“You are aware that it’s watered down espresso, right? Who waters down their espresso?” The look of disgust on his face made Cullen chuckle. Dorian pulled the tray from the bottom of his cup and handed it down to Joanie, who trotted off into the other room with it.

“Lots of people, it’s _good_.”

Dorian made a wordless noise that just said _I’m not having this argument with you again_ , which just made Cullen shake his head with a smile.

“I brought lunch,” Dorian finally told him, patting his messenger bag gently. “What say you and I make a date of it? Take a walk down to the beach?”

“Poor Hissrad,” Cullen teased. “I wasn’t aware you were on the prowl again.”

Dorian fixed him with a severe look. It dissolved quickly, and they shared a laugh.

“Actually, Dorian, can you grab Joanie’s harness from the truck for me while I clean up here? I’ll meet you outside.”

“Keys?”

Cullen fished them out of his pocket and handed them over before turning back to the kitchen.

* * *

The beach was quiet for such a beautiful summer day.

Still, the ‘quiet’ was relative – there were plenty of people enjoying the sunshine. Laughter seemed to sing from all around them, punctuated by youthful shrieks of delight. It always took Cullen a few minutes to calm down when he went to busy places like this, his PTSD putting him on edge.

“Thank you, girl.” That was Joanie’s sign that he was okay, and she’d been lazing happily in the grass since he’d said it to her almost half an hour ago. He listened intently as Dorian prattled on about their friends and what they’d done and talked about this week as he ate, providing input where necessary.

“Your dog looks bored,” Dorian pointed out after a few minutes of quiet between them. He’d been so busy talking that he’d barely touched his lunch; Cullen was already done the bulk of his.

“Maybe I can find you a good stick and we can play some fetch in the off-leash park for a bit before we go back,” Cullen told Joanie. She looked at him with perked ears for a few seconds before relaxing again, panting. He dug into Dorian’s bag for a bottle of water and topped off Joanie’s water bowl again. She lapped at it a few times before resuming her panting and her dutiful watch of the park.

A rogue frisbee sailed toward them, catching Joanie’s attention as it landed on its side, bouncing and rolling straight for her. Cullen breathed a sigh of relief that he’d put her harness on – instead of going after it, she pushed herself away from it, closer to him.

Cullen scratched behind her ears for her, murmuring words of praise as they continued to watch it roll and bounce, stopping a few feet short of them. A young boy of no more than ten trotted after it, and smiled sheepishly as he bent to pick it up.

“I’m sorry we disturbed you and your dog, sir.”

“You’re okay,” Cullen told him kindly.

“We’ll move down a bit so it doesn’t happen again.”

Cullen’s gaze stayed on the boy as he ran back to his friends. He watched them move a little further down the field before resuming their game, and couldn’t help but smile a little sadly to himself. When he was younger, he’d always wanted a family; his home growing up had been full, and loud sometimes, but he had loved that. It was the definition of _home_ to him.

It had been difficult for him when he realized he wanted a military career. How could he have a family when he would be moving around all the time? That wouldn’t be fair to a wife, or children. He resolved to do his time and then retire, find another respectable job and build a family.

And then he’d taken a tour in Afghanistan.

He’d been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder before even being sent home. All it could take was one incident… He’d met Joanie that day. She was the only good that came out of his whole time there.

Sometimes his flashbacks included the screaming. It almost always included the smell of smoke, the sight of tiny corpses being pulled from the rubble, children and animal both.

He couldn’t save them all.

“Cullen? _Cullen_ ,” Dorian said quietly. His hand on Cullen’s forearm startled him back to the present.

He spun to look at his roommate, not registering the concern etched into his face.

“Cullen, it’s okay. Everyone’s fine. You’re home.”

Cullen blinked a few times, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart and return his senses. Joanie whined next to him, her chin resting on his knee. She drew up and close to him when he looked down at her, and he threw an arm around her shoulders, kissing the bald burn scar on the top of her snout as the memory returned to him more naturally.

The building had been an old storage house that was abandoned due to structural compromises. The local strays had taken up residence, and a market had sprung up nearby - close enough that the children would go feed scraps to the animals while their parents bartered.

They’d been called into the area due to suspicious activity; nothing had happened for almost a month. They expected the market to be targeted, and so they’d _almost_ ignored the building just up the road. They hadn’t counted on someone being sick enough to target the children.

The bomber detonated unexpectedly before they could stop him.

Those that didn’t die in the fire were killed by the building collapsing. They’d saved as many as they could, but not enough. The children, of course, took priority, but they were really grabbing for anything that was moving.

Joanie had been one of the lucky ones that day. The litter she’d given birth to just days before couldn’t say the same. Despite her injuries, she’d known how to help - she would sniff along and bark whenever she found something. She’d helped them save as many lives as they could.

Still, when Cullen and his squadmates finally left the site, tears in their eyes and grief heavy in their hearts, she refused to leave his side. She had burns - some bad - and so he brought her back to their base, to the vet who took care of their other trained dogs. She was nursed back to health and immediately began training as a therapy dog, but it was clear that she felt drawn to Cullen above anyone else.

He’d been the one to name her; for some reason, as he watched her scratching at a pile of rubble and whining, he’d been reminded of Joan of Arc. Here she was, a battered and burned dog who’d suffered for no good reason, trying to help them help others. It wasn’t quite the same, but it was close enough.

He’d saved her once, but she’d saved him every day since. It sounded terrible and cliché, but it was the truth. He’d never have survived without her; he’d be locked up in isolation somewhere, his flashbacks making him violent and dangerous. She’d been there since the beginning, and he could honestly tell you that she was the sole reason he was still able to go out in public.

“Sorry, Dorian,” Cullen murmured as he shook his head slowly, letting his arm slide off of Joanie’s shoulders. “Thank you, girl.”

“Are you alright?”

Cullen nodded, but didn’t meet Dorian’s gaze. Instead, he continued to watch Joanie as she dragged herself back over to her water bowl and lapped at it a few more times. He smiled to see her so lazy.

His diagnosis had been hard, but not unexpected; he’d known that there was a very good chance it would happen when he was preparing to leave for his tour. The most difficult part of it was accepting that his hopes for a quiet family life were shattered. How could he possibly live with dragging another person through life while fighting such a difficult mental illness? He knew that there were people - he’d find someone, surely, who would love him anyway and want to help him heal - but could he live with himself if ever he had an episode and hurt them? What about his own children? He could see himself becoming paranoid, needing to know what they were doing and where they were going with an obsessive need…

He was dragged out of his thoughts by the sight of the largest dog he’d ever seen barrelling towards Joanie.

“Romulus! _Romulus, **no**!_ ”

God, but it was a beast, making Joanie look like a pup by comparison. It had clearly had its beautiful, clean white fur cut for the weather, and it ignored Joanie altogether as it stuck its face in her water bowl.

“I am _so sorry_ , I should have known better - I think he weighs more than I do. It’s hard to control a dog that size sometimes.”

Cullen turned to find the source of the voice speaking to him.

When he reflected back on the moment later, he would remember the pastel blue scrubs she wore, and the way it seemed to match the ink covering her entire left arm that he couldn’t quite make out. He’d remember her being short and petite, her frame compact but clearly strong. He’d remember the plugs in her ears, roses carved from a dark wood, and the large pearl studs next to them, before the gold and silver rings started lining the shells of her ears, and he’d remember the small holes in her bottom lip, two close together on one side, that spoke of piercings removed for work.

In the moment, he was lost in her striking dark blue eyes, wide with fear and apology as she tried to wrest her dog away from the water bowl. He registered the freckles that dusted her skin, lightly tanned but still pale. And how could he miss the bright shock of orange hair that framed her soft, round face?

“It’s - it’s alright,” he answered her, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“No, it’s not - your dog is working, what if something had happened? God, I can’t believe - I don’t know what’s gotten into him today. I’m _so so sorry._ ”

Her voice was rich, both deep and yet distinctly feminine. Cullen couldn’t help but smile and chuckle. “She’s a therapy dog, not an alert dog, so we’re fine. It’s clear he needs the drink.”

She sighed in frustration. “I had planned to stop him a little ways up where there was less traffic. I tried to give him water not even five minutes ago, and he wouldn’t take _any_. Dogs like him aren’t meant for this heat, I get worried. But they’re like anything; you can lead them to water…”

Finally her giant dog lifted his head from the bowl, panting and grinning, his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

“You…” She just sighed. “I’m sorry, again. Here,” she dug into the messenger bag at her side and handed them a fresh bottle of water. “To top her bowl up again. Have a good afternoon!”

“You too,” he murmured as they went on their way. His gaze lingered on her as they walked; her legs were long, and she lengthened her stride as they reached the boardwalk again, carrying them out of sight in only a few minutes.

“Have I told you lately that you’re an idiot?” Dorian sighed dramatically.

Cullen finally turned to look at his roommate. “What?”

“You did _not_ just let that walk away without even introducing yourself. Look at you! You’re red and glassy-eyed, and she was throwing off some _very_ clear signals.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Cullen admitted honestly.

Dorian just shook his head defeatedly, giving him a pitying look. “You’re going to regret that.”

He would never admit it to anyone else, but Dorian was absolutely right.

In a city as large as this one, what were the chances he’d ever see her again? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, an update!
> 
> I lost about half of this chapter when I moved back in September, and when I started to rewrite it, I was really frustrated with it. It just wasn't happening the right way anymore. 
> 
> It took far, far too long, but I finally got it done. I'm actually itching to get to the next chapter at least, so that might be in the near future.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday nights at the Pearl is a sacred tradition among the boys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recommended listening: Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon

In a city as large as this one, Cullen was sure he would never see her again.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

It was a weekly tradition for Cullen to get together with the boys and head to the Pearl for drinks. The top floor was a strip club, and the bottom floor was a dance club. When they’d first started coming here, Cullen had been dragged along reluctantly, but he had started to really enjoy the time they’d spend there.

Friday nights always hosted a drag show before the strip shows started. Some of the best drag queens in the country would come to perform at the Pearl, and Cullen had come to appreciate it as the art form it was. He didn’t enjoy it _quite_ as much as Krem and Bran did, but he _did_ enjoy it. It was fun, and flashy, and dramatic, and always made for a healthy laugh. And when that was over, they would head downstairs so that the others could dance.

Dorian was already a little tipsy when they headed downstairs, hanging on to Bull’s arm in a rare display of public affection. Krem and Bran were ahead of them, sharing a laugh as they talked about the queens who had performed tonight. The two of them enjoyed dancing all the time, but Dorian and Bull took dancing on a week-by-week basis.

First, though, they all headed to the bar.

Cullen and the bartender had a tradition. The bartender would raise his eyebrows at Cullen, silently questioning whether he was having a drink; Cullen shook his head, just the same as every other week. The bartender would pour him a ginger ale, light ice, and drop a straw in it before placing it down on the bar top carefully. Cullen would attempt to pay, and the bartender would give him a death glare back. Cullen would wait until his back was turned and drop his payment into his tip dish as quietly as possible.

Cullen wasn’t much of a drinker. He might occasionally have a beer, or a glass of wine, but only if he was having food with it. Instead, he was the designated ‘dad’ of the group, making sure everyone got home okay – and he was more than okay with that role.

He stared down at his glass, ignoring the way Dorian was leaning on Bull next to him, and started when he heard a voice that shouldn’t have been familiar to him on his right.

“Well, well. Fancy meeting you here. World’s a smaller place than you’d think.”

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up, and he stood straighter. “Hey,” he said, for lack of anything better to say.

She giggled. “What do they call this? Serendipity?”

Cullen smiled widely. “Uh, are you getting a drink?”

“No, I thought I’d come up to the bar to study the taps,” she teased, but it was kind. “We didn’t get the chance to properly meet earlier. I’m Lupa.”

“Cullen,” he answered immediately. She stuck her hand out, saving him from having to worry about whether or not it would be appropriate to shake someone’s hand at a bar. Her grip was firm but not painful, and he hoped (strangely) that his left a good impression on her.

“A nice proper English name,” she commented. The bartender came by and took her order (a round of four shots) and she leaned against the bar to wait. “I’m sorry again about earlier. Interrupting a working dog is inexcusable.”

Cullen shook his head. “Oh, it’s fine.”

“You don’t bring her with you?”

“A club is no place for any dog,” he answered her. “This is a sort of… a test, I suppose. Getting used to large crowds and big spaces. I’m familiar with this place, so I don’t need her here.”

Lupa nodded. “PTSD?”

Cullen felt his expression sour, but he nodded.

“I’m sorry, this is a terrible time and place to bring something like that up.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes screwing shut. “I’ve had a few of these already, I’m sorry.”

Cullen couldn’t help but smile. “It’s okay.”

“Well, it was nice to finally meet you! I guess I’ll see some more of you tonight, but… um, I have to get these back to the girls.”

And with that she was gone.

“No _fucking_ way. Was that who I think it was?”

Cullen turned to find Dorian staring at him with incredulous eyes.

“Who do you think it was?” Bull asked.

“Well Cullen and I had a lunch date down at the beach today-”

“A lunch date? Without me? I’m hurt, Dorian.”

“Oh, be quiet, I’m trying to tell you a story,” Dorian protested, making Bull rumble out a laugh. “So this woman – who is stunning, by the way – loses control of her giant dog, and it makes a beeline straight for us. She starts talking to Cullen and the idiot let her walk away without even getting a _name_.”

“Cullen,” Bull admonished, putting on an air of extreme disappointment.

“I told him, ‘you’re going to regret that’. He’d never end up seeing her again. But that was her, wasn’t it? It looked like her. Was it her?”

Cullen nodded. “Yeah, it was. Said her name is Lupa.”

Bull made a face that could best be described by the sound of an interested _hm_. “There’s a name you don’t hear often outside of Italy.”

“Did you see her hair? She is _not_ Italian.”

“ _Lupa_ is the Latin word for wolf, because the founding brothers of Rome were raised by a giant wolf with that name. I didn’t mean that _she’s_ Italian.”

“Well, maybe you should have said _Roman_ , then.”

Cullen decided it was a good time to go back to his ginger ale.

He wasn’t much of a dancer, so his entertainment for this part of the night came in the form of people recognizing Bull. They would ask for selfies, flirt shamelessly, subtly and not-so-subtly ask about how they could become members at his gym – and the way Bull would handle them always left him stifling his laughter.

Cullen was on his way back from the washroom about an hour later, and returned to his spot at the bar to see Lupa waiting.

He hadn’t really registered what she was wearing earlier, and took a moment to take stock of it now. Her dress appeared to be a dark forest green under the lights at the bar, made of simple cotton, hanging to just above the knee with wide shoulder straps and a huge cutout on her back – it showcased a landscape tattoo of a golden-leafed tree ( _Is that a mallorn tree?)_ set against rolling green grasslands. As he got closer, he could see the little round doors in some of the small hills ( _It_ is _a mallorn tree.)_.  Her hair had been pulled up into a ponytail high on her head, and her skin glistened from the sheen of sweat that coated it. He wondered if she’d been dancing.

As he stopped at her side, he could finally make out the tattoo on her left arm – a full sleeve that could best be described as a window into the depths of the ocean. Her facial piercings were securely in place: two silver rings in her bottom lip on the left side and a dainty jewelled septum ring.

“Oh, hi! You’re still here!”

Cullen nodded and took his place at the bar back. “Just needed a bit of a break.”

She nodded. “Me, too. I love this song, but I _really_ need like, my weight’s worth in water.”

Cullen smiled and chuckled. He couldn’t tell you what song it was that was playing, but he knew he’d heard it here for the last few months, at least. The bartender brought her the water she’d ordered, and he was surprised to see her mimick his stance after she finished taking a long pull on the straw.

“So what do you do?” she asked him.

“I’m a private contractor,” he told her.

“Tough gig.”

“It can be,” he agreed. “Thankfully I get enough business to live on without driving myself crazy. How about you?”

“I’m a vet,” she answered him. “My practice is just off of Queen East, so I like to take Romulus down to the boardwalk on my lunch hour when I can.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dog that big before.”

She laughed. “Yeah, he’s a monster. Albino Alaskan Malamute. He’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever meet, though.”

“How did you get him?”

“His whole litter was brought down to me from northern Ontario, actually. There were five of them.” She paused to take another long pull on the straw in her glass, finishing the water she had been given. She placed the cup down on the bartop and requested a second before continuing. “I have a partnership with an old classmate who works up north at a shelter – if they’re getting tight on space or have litters or special cases, they send them to me, and I find homes for them. It’s easier to do that in urban centres than it is up there. Everything is too rural. Sometimes the puppies they send me go for therapy and service training, actually, or to the police.”

Cullen nodded, impressed. “It’s always good to give the poor things a home. They don’t deserve to be holed up in shelters.”

“No, but it’s better than living on the streets,” she sighed. Her second glass of water arrived, and she drank half of it in one gulp again before slamming it on the bartop as the song changed.

“I _love_ this song! Come on!”

Cullen frowned as she reached for his hand. “Uh, what?”

“Come dance with me!”

“I, uh… I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances,” she argued.

“Okay, I don’t dance _well_.”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as you’re having fun. Besides, there are so many people there that no one will even notice! Please?”

The way she looked up at him through her lashes made his knees weak. She smiled wickedly, and this time, when she tugged on his hand, he followed her out onto the dancefloor.

He looked around at the people that surrounded them, and realized that he wouldn’t be the only one making a fool of himself. Besides, there was barely any room to do much more than simply grind against each other. Lupa tried to loosen him up some by doing a strange but cute little bouncy dance, her head bobbing from side to side and she swapped her weight between her feet in time with the music.

 

> _She took my arm_
> 
> _I don’t know how it happened_
> 
> _We took the floor and she said-_
> 
> _“Oh, don’t you dare look back,_
> 
> _Just keep your eyes one me.”_
> 
> _I said, “You’re holding back.”_
> 
> _She said, “Shut up and dance with me!”_
> 
> _This woman is my destiny_
> 
> _She said, “Oo-woo-hoo!_
> 
> _Shut up and dance with me!”_

 

Cullen laughed, and then shook his head when she raised an eyebrow at him. He closed his eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and then resolved to let his instincts take over.

He ended up staying with her out there for far longer than he expected. She took no time in turning her back to him, leaning on him as the song would change and gently guiding him. At one point she grabbed his wrists and placed his hands on her hips for him; he’d been afraid to touch her, in case she hadn’t wanted him to, but once his hands were on her he relaxed a little more.

It was well over an hour later when he finally leaned down and suggested stepping outside for some air. She gestured for him to lead the way, and he pushed his way through the crowd to the front door.

They emerged out onto the street, and Cullen took a deep breath of clear air. He hadn’t realized how claustrophobic it had been on the dancefloor.

“See? I told you it would be fun. You’re not as bad as you think you are,” Lupa giggled, her cheeks flushed. Her hair was starting to come loose, little wisps falling to frame her face. She pushed them back absently.

“Anyone can dance like that,” Cullen countered with a self-conscious laugh. His heart was hammering, his skin burning just from the memory of her lean frame pressed against him the way it had been just minutes before. 

“Oh, no – you’d be surprised.” She looked out at the road past him, and threw a hand out.

Cullen followed her line of sight, and frowned when he saw the cab. “Um, are you leaving?”

“Hm?” she dropped her hand back to her side. “Sorry, I thought _we_ were leaving. Are we not?”

“Wha – Oh, uh, no, that wasn’t what I had intended.” He could feel heat flooding his face, and he looked away from her in shame.

“Interesting. So why did you bring me all the way out here then?”

Surprisingly, she didn’t sound disappointed; in fact, she sounded intrigued. “Well, it was getting really hot in there, and I just thought that maybe we could – we could get some fresh air, and talk where we could actually hear each other for a few minutes.” He dragged a hand down his face and looked down at her to find that she’d stepped closer. “There’s nothing wrong with having a bit of fun after – it’s just not my thing. I’m sorry if I misled you, but I just – I don’t do one-nights, personally. There’s nothing wrong with them-”

She laughed, the sound kind. “You prefer some intimacy to be involved.”

He let out a relieved sigh. “ _Yes_. I’m sorry if you were expecting something else, but I’m just… it’s not my way.”

Lupa nodded at him. “No wonder you hang out at the bar with your friends. Men of substance don’t usually come to places like this unless they’re with their other half. So, what did you want to talk about?”

“I, um – well, I was thinking…” He took a deep breath again, trying to figure out the best way to phrase what he was trying to say. “I just think that it’s a really odd coincidence that we should run into each other twice in one day, and I – I’ve had a lot of fun tonight, actually. I guess, I just thought that maybe we – we could get to know each other better?” He winced internally. Had he just come on too strong?

She raised a brow at him. “A proper date?”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he assured her immediately. “It could just be coffee between two people who are getting to know each other, no commitments, but if you wanted… I’m not going to say no.”

She laughed brightly. “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” she commented nonchalantly, and he reached up to rub at the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Um, thank you?”

“And I think that sounds fantastic,” she answered. “Honestly, I’m used to being taken home by someone who barely knows what they’re doing only to be unceremoniously dumped out in the morning. This is a very refreshing change of pace.”

Cullen frowned as he dug his phone out of his pocket. “I’m sorry that’s what you’ve come to expect.”

“It’s what happens when you go to places like these looking for more than a drink and some dancing,” she told him. “I’ve had enough of those experiences, though.”

Cullen nodded absently. Should he ask for her number? No, wait- “Here, um… do you want to do Facebook?”

She cocked her head curiously, but her answer was bright. “Sure! It’s Lupa Lavellan, and the picture is me and my dog.”

Cullen did a quick search, and found her in the top five results. “This one?”

He showed her his screen and she nodded. “That’s it!”

He tapped to send the friend request, and then locked his phone and dropped it back into his pocket.

“I had a great time tonight,” he told her again.

“Me too! Are you leaving?”

He nodded. “The others usually want to head out around this time, and I don’t want my truck to be stuck at my brother’s condo for the night.”

Lupa nodded at him. “It was nice meeting you! We’ll talk soon.”

“Sounds great.”

Cullen walked backwards for a few steps before turning around and making his way back inside.

The others were waiting at the bar for him. He fielded their questions without saying too much, and when they were finally convinced that he would say no more on the subject, they made their way back out onto the street. Lupa was nowhere to be seen, and he pulled his phone back out of his pocket to check it as they walked.

He had two notifications: the first from Facebook that she had accepted his friend request, and the second from her on Messenger with her phone number.

Cullen smiled as he added it into his phone.

 

> **[Cullen]:** _Hey it’s Cullen_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _Too afraid to give a girl your number? :P_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Cullen]:** _Afraid of making a girl uncomfortable by making her take my number_
> 
> **[Cullen]:** _At least you can ignore a Facebook friend request_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _Interesting. I thought you were really confident all night, even with all the stammering. I wouldn’t normally expect that level of awareness from someone like that._
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _I’m looking forward to coffee! Did you have a time or date in mind?_

 

“Hey, Cul – who’s that you’re talking to?”

Cullen locked his screen and glared at his brother. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, you’re grinning like an idiot!” Branson told him. “I haven’t seen you look like that in _years_. You’re gonna tell me all about her, right? Is that where you disappeared to tonight? Were you _dancing?_ Why didn’t you take her home?”

“Bran, please, just stop.”

Branson threw his hands up in the air. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it. I promise I won’t steal this one from you.”

Cullen just rolled his eyes and went back to his phone. His brother drove him nuts sometimes, but he knew he’d spill to him eventually. They never could keep secrets from each other.

 

> **[Cullen]:** _Are you free at all on Sunday?_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _What time and where?_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Cullen]:** _There’s a Starbucks on Queen E just east of Woodbine? We can take the dogs down to the park?_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _You definitely know the way to a girl’s heart_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Cullen]:** _How does 11 sound? Or do you want to do earlier/later?_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _11 is perfect! I can’t wait!_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Cullen]:** _Me either._
> 
>  
> 
> **[Lupa]:**  < _A photo of her smiling widely in harsh lighting. It looks like she's at a subway station. >_
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _I know we said already, but I had a lot of fun tonight_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Cullen]:** _Me too! Get home safely. Are you travelling alone?_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _No I’m with the girls for most of the trip_
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _I can let you know when I get in if you’re worried?_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Cullen]:** _You don’t have to, but I would feel better knowing you were safe_
> 
>  
> 
> **[Lupa]:** _I’ll text you when I get in then <3_

 

Cullen locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket, walking the rest of the way back to Branson’s apartment in silence.

Dorian decided to come home instead of going to Bull’s, and it wasn’t until they were in the truck alone that he said anything.

“So?”

Cullen took in a deep breath. “I’ve got a coffee date on Sunday.”

Dorian laughed. “I knew you could do it! Thank god for second chances. Tell me _everything._ ”

Cullen just laughed as he took the truck out of park and started the drive home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lupa is a real nerd in modern. For those who aren't Tolkien fans: the mallorn tree is from Lord of the Rings, and the scenery is the Shire. Her sleeve includes a bunch of Greek sea monsters, and she has lots of other tattoos that will be revealed over time!


End file.
